


The Love Game

by GrimMessenger



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blood, Death, Harry Potter is Death, M/M, Master of Death Harry Potter, Trauma, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:29:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25440925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrimMessenger/pseuds/GrimMessenger
Summary: Tom challenged Death to a game for his soul.Who can get the other to fall in love with them first?He’s never been in love and he has never given anyone a passing glance. He can’t lose.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle
Comments: 7
Kudos: 185





	The Love Game

Tom stared at the boy in front of him. He was wearing clothes too big and scars like they were the newest trend and he was definitely not what Tom expected to see when he summoned Death. He hadn’t even been aware he was expecting anything really. Perhaps the muggle brainwashing as a child affected him deeper than he knew and when the spell was all said and done he had expected a skeletal figure in a cloak. Perhaps with a farming instrument of some sort. That was traditional, wasn’t it?

Instead stood a boy who could have been no older than him but who wore his 16 years like he was a dog and they were worth infinitely more. The immortality he held did not agree with him in the way it would agree with Tom and while the sight of his soon to be forgotten mortality would have shaken most people to the core it only filled Tom with more determination for what he was about to do. 

The runes of blood and bone began to light as he started on the next part of the incantation, to bind death to him, to hold his end, everyone’s end, in his hands and hold it tight while he brought down the only thing between him and never being weak again. 

The boy just stood there as it happened. As Tom bound him to his will. He stood there and he looked around casually without a care in the world. When Tom finished the spell he stood there across from him, no doubt reminiscing his loss of free will and clapped. 

“Wow, I haven’t seen a show like that in ages. It’s not every day someone tries to bind death to them and with skill too.”

Tom stared again. “I didn’t try. I succeeded.”

He went over every part of the ritual in his head again just to make sure the mess of oversized clothes in the center of his ritual wasn’t able to get out without his permission.   
“You would have succeeded if I was not already the master of myself. Maybe next time you should read the fine print. After all, maybe all this did was move up your death date. Unless of course, you’ve got something else to try.”

Moved to right that moment if he was unlucky and judging by the way the now seemingly closer boy was smiling and how he had somehow botched a ritual without making a single mistake he could prepare for. He was beginning to think he was unlucky. The boy was staring at him and seemed to be edging closer the longer Tom thought without ever actually picking his feet up off the ground. A blink and he was five inches closer than the last time and about miles and centuries closer than Tom wanted him to be. The oversized clothes were now oversized shadows and they fit his form better than the grin he wore that never quite reached his eyes. Without conscious thought, Tom's lips were moving.

“I challenge you to a game.” 

The boy grinned about half-deranged and Tom suddenly didn’t know if he should be relieved that this might be okay after all. 

“What kind of game?”

A game that he could win. Not chess. War is something this boy looks all too familiar with and Tom doesn’t doubt that he would lose. Games flashed in and out of his mind. Board games are too easy and he’s never even played a video game and he doesn’t have the skill for sports and Death definitely has a better tolerance for drinking games and anyone could win a children’s game and what could he possibly have a chance at winning against Death? What would be impossible for him to lose? What was impossible about Tom Riddle? 

Tom has never been in love and never really spared anyone a passing glance. That doesn't mean it's not possible of course but it does mean it'll be harder than monopoly or chess to win. No one ever said he couldn't make games up.

“The Love Game,” Tom said.

The shadows were back to clothes and the boy was back to where he had been when they started like he had never left. 

“How do you play the love game?” he asked

How do you play the love game?

“We try to get the other to fall in love with us. If I win then you grant me immortality.”

“And if I win I get your soul.” 

Tom nodded at that. He had hoped that the boy wouldn't notice but it seems that he is smarter than he appears.

The grin stretched across his face again. This one more of amusement than anything else and he held out his hand. 

“I suppose we should get to know each other then. I’m Harry.”

Tom looked at the hand. All he had to do was not fall first. Everyone always said he was charming. All he had to do was charm Death. He took the hand and shook it.

“My name is Tom”  
~o~o~o~  
It turned out that Death was good company. He had turned up the next day at Hogwarts with a cookie in a bag and took a seat next to him by the tree. 

“I brought you something.”

Tom set his book aside and took it and smiled a bit at him. “Thank you.” 

He pocketed it. He wondered if he should take the risk of love potion himself or just let someone else try it first.

“What do you do out here by yourself?” Death said.

The Love Game had a way of making the most innocent of questions and gestures seem malicious he was learning. 

“I read mostly.” 

He held up his book and showed the cover to Death. Honesty and manners proved to go a long way with most people. A few smiles didn’t hurt.

“What about you?” Tom asked, “What do you do in your free time?”

Death broke into a grin again. One that Tom was surprised to see actually reached his eyes and filled them with, at a first glance, might have been nostalgia. “Quidditch. Or I used to.”

“Why don’t you anymore?” 

Death looked out toward the quidditch pitch and let out a sigh. “I don’t have much of a team anymore.”

Tom nodded and gave him a telltale understanding smile. “That’s too bad.”

Death nodded curtly and gazed back at the pitch.

~o~o~o~

“Close your eyes.” Tom looked at Death expectantly with the fluttering snitch in his hands. It was a bit difficult to get a hold of one with practices going on but a certain Malfoy owed him a favor and this was more than worth redeeming it on. Death gave him a suspicious look but did so and Tom carefully slid the snitch into the boys waiting palms. A grin once again split his face even before he opened his eyes. 

Death looked at him. “Thank you,” he said and Tom was sure he meant it. A kind smile and a nod were all it took for Death to take it as permission to open his hands and start jumping to catch the snitch. 

Oh this would be too easy.  
~o~o~o~  
Death came often enough. Bearing gifts of trinkets and conversation. Tom wasn’t sure what he said after the fact having spent too much time paying attention to Death's answers for things that might help push him along. 

Tom had started placing the trinkets on a shelf by his bed. He would carefully look and adjust them so they looked just right before being satisfied enough with it to move on. Someone tried to tease him about it once. They went so far as to take it off the shelf. 

They won't be messing with his things again. 

~o~o~o~  
“A boy died today”

It was the first thing Death said to him. The first snow was beginning to fall and Tom was starting to freeze. The snow avoided the other boy and he didn't even seem to notice as the wind whipped by and nipped at Tom's ears. Just because Death could stay out in the cold indefinitely didn't mean Tom could. 

“Why don’t you come inside?”

They sat together on a couch with cocoa Tom pilfered from the kitchen. Death was quieter today and he didn't seem like he was going to start the conversation again on his own. Which left...Tom. Unfortunately. Tom figures it was his duty to start the conversation again. 

“You said a boy died?”

Death nodded and looked at his cocoa. It was hard to read his expression with the fogged glasses and messy hair in the way. Tom took a guess and decided that that meant he was to stay quiet. 

“He had a wife and kids. He would cook while his wife helped them with the homework and on the weekends he would teach them quidditch and he would run a hand through his hair as his daughter ran off with all the ponies in the chess set.”

Tom kept quiet as Death's tone became more emotional. His face moved to search for something to look at before he settled on Tom. He wanted answers Tom didn't have.

“I know I’m Death and I know that he was old and would have gone eventually. But every time I take someone I can’t help but think about who is going to miss them. Is anyone going to miss them? People die all the time homeless and hungry and people don’t even notice they’re gone. He'll be remembered. But the next one? And the next? Who will remember them when they're gone?” 

He was shaking now. Ripples were forming in his hot chocolate and he just kept looking at Tom like the answers were waiting inside the probable first person he had spoken to in months.

“I’m sorry,” Tom said. 

“No, you’re not. You only say that so you’ll win the game.”

Was he wrong? He didn't know what to say when the fogged up eyes looked at him with hope like that when there was nothing he had to offer. I'm sorry was what people always said for grief. He wasn't wrong, but he wasn't right either.

Tom kept silent and Death disappeared the next time he sipped his cocoa.

~o~o~o~

Death didn’t appear for a few months and Tom was starting to worry that their deal was off. As Tom read through the pile of books Death gave him he found himself starting to look forward to seeing him again. 

~o~o~o~

The next time he did show up the snow had long melted and the sun was starting to prepare itself for summer. He was wearing twice as many scars and the grin that didn’t reach his eyes again. He offered Tom another book and leaned back against the tree. 

“How was your winter?” Tom asked as he skimmed through the book.

“As eventful as it can be when you’re Death and spend your time waiting for people with hypothermia to start showing up.”

Tom raised a brow, “And that’s okay with you?”

Death hesitated with a look that said ‘No, No it is not okay’ before looking away and toward a trio of Gryffindors on a bench. “I’m Death. It’s my job.”

Tom nodded and went to his book.

They both let the leaves rustle and people come and go awhile before Death looks at Tom with a grin and pulls out a small wrapped box. 

“I forgot! Your birthday was in December right?” He stuffed the box into Tom's hands. 

Tom looked with mild surprise. It wasn't often or really ever that people gave him gifts. Especially not birthday ones with no strings attached. 

Death watched him and ran a hand through his hair and ruffled it up. He was moving in place like an excited puppy and Tom had to admit that to some people it might even be considered cute behavior.

“Go on! Open it!”

His excitement was contagious and well, Tom was curious. He set aside his book and opened it.. It was new to have someone so excited about him opening a present. New and... kind of nice. The present was a small ceramic snake. It curled in on itself and when he held it up it shone a vibrant green. 

“Well do you like it?” Harry asked.  
He looked at him and for a brief moment saw the snake in his eyes before it curled around his pupil and laid to rest. “I do. Thank you Harry.”

There weren't any visits from Harry during the summer. Tom was forced to spend his days with the snake for company and plotting his next move in the game. 

~o~o~o~

Harry watched Tom place the trinkets he gave him carefully on a shelf with a small smile and then lay down to read. Tom's hair had gotten longer over the summer and it just barely hung in front of his eyes. Harry wondered what his plan was. What was he going to do next about The Love Game? And if he gets immortality what is he going to do with it? It seemed like studying all the time like he has been doing would make for a rather boring eternity. He watched for a little while. Tilting his head when Tom did his as he found something he thought was interesting or didn’t quite grasp right away. The door opened and Malfoy came in causing Tom to look up with a sharp glare and hex him on the spot. Harrys sure he thought it was Malfoy's fault for interrupting his reading. With that, Harry turned away from watching from behind the weaves of life to begin thinking about his own part in this game. 

~o~o~o~

There was something amusing about the way he walked Harry decided. Amusing and infuriating. He didn’t walk like he was a normal student. His strides were short and filled with confidence. Possibly arrogance. He always had somewhere to be. Somewhere important you weren’t privileged enough to know about. His walk, Harry realized, showed just what he thought of the people around him. Even more so than the quick scowls that were wiped away as soon as they appeared and replaced with a smile whenever someone bumped into him. Funny that a man so scared of his own mortality was annoyed by the existence of others.

~o~o~o~

Tom couldn’t decide what to think about Harry. He would come in with new scars some days and want to sit and talk about everything and nothing and then sometimes he would just sit quietly and watch Tom study the same page of runes over and over. There was something so distracting about the way he watched like it was less about runes and more about everything Tom had ever done. Sometimes Tom thinks that the game is less about who falls first and more about what Harry thinks of Tom and how he is living his life. 

~o~o~o~

Harry arrives at the castle earlier than normal for their usual Saturday chat. The dead were quieter today and while his feet made no noise on the stone floors of Hogwarts Harry could feel it under his feet much clearer than on days when everyone was screaming so loud that it wasn’t even multiple voices anymore, just one uniform voice wanting the same thing it had always wanted. 

An escape from the pain.  
The corridors were empty this early and he expected he would have to wait until breakfast to see Tom again. He stopped in the middle of one. Something reeked. The stench of the dead and dying surrounded the corridors and the screams were louder than ever and it must have been a miracle that Harry could hear the parseltongue over them. 

~Come back darling~

The screaming grew louder for a moment and it was only for the rush of bodies pushing past him that he realized it was real. The screaming was real and he couldn’t do anything about it and who was it and who is it and are they still there and did they suffer and what happened and- Harry pushed to the front of the crowd in time to see dark red pooling on the grass and Hermione was shouting to come back and it’s too late and they need to go now. He blinked and the blood was gone. 

Just a girl lying dead on the bathroom floor. 

He turned and ran. 

He pushed past the images of stained robes and dropped wands and blood that never washes off and the screaming of his friends lying dead on the battlefield.

Harry ran, he ran straight into Tom Riddle. 

~o~o~o~

There was something frantic in Harry's eyes. He was a wild animal in a trap and blindly trying to escape. His eyes were closed before he reached him but Tom still saw the panicked gleam as they collided. Tom reached out and grabbed his wrist to steady him and held on as Harry tried to keep running. 

“Harry? What’s going on?” he asked.

Harry turned and the panic was gone and replaced by hard eyes. 

“The deal's off.”

Tom dropped his hand and pulled back.

“What? You can’t do that!”

Harry ran off.

“Harry get back here!”

But he was gone.

~o~o~o~

Tom didn’t know what to do. His best chance at immortality was gone because of some random tantrum Death had. Wasn’t there some rule against Death having tantrums? Now he was stuck with a deadline that could have been pushed up for all he knows and the memory of a messy-haired teenager who wore shadows like oversized clothes and scars like it was a fashion trend.   
He sighed and reached for one of the small desk toys Harry seemed so fond of giving him. A lego reaper. Perhaps he could get this one to run off too.

~o~o~o~

Harry sat in his chair facing the wall he always watched the living through. It was silent for once or at least it was trying to be. The voices were getting louder and louder until they melded. A blanket of noise that so completely covered every part of his mind and outward that it was silent. He had spent days lost in memories after the incident at Hogwarts. The war was still fresh in his mind even if the landscape had forgotten. 

He thought...He thought Tom was better than this. Maybe he thought that someone had escaped that bit of history even though every other part remained the same. He was nothing but a killer like the man he faced on the Hogwarts grounds that day surrounded by the corpses of everyone he knew. He was not going to give a killer immortality. Love or not. Some people just shouldn’t be around that long.

~o~o~o~

Harry didn’t show up again. This was the fifth Saturday in a row that he was a no show and Tom was beginning to get used to the idea that he would have to find another way to get immortality. A borrowed book, and then he was looking into horcruxes.

~o~o~o~

Harry decided to watch Tom for a little while. Just to make sure his interference didn’t cause any long-lasting damage. A few weeks passed and he didn’t seem to be veering off track so he left it and went about the rest of his business. Occasionally checking in Tom to make sure he was staying on track.   
He might have watched a little longer than he needed to but there was nothing wrong with being thorough. 

~o~o~o~

Tom was irritated. It had been weeks since he last saw Harry. He had Death and free books in such a perfect position and then it was gone. Run off with panicked eyes and a cold determination to get rid of Tom.

It’s not like it mattered now that he had horcruxes. He could just make those. He could have been spared the pain if Harry had just stuck to their deal like he said he would. Instead, he was off throwing a cosmic temper tantrum over what Tom still hadn’t found out. Tom groaned and flopped down on his bed. This ritual was not going to be easy. 

~o~o~o~

Harry absently pet shadows as he watched Tom. It had been a couple of months now and Harry was having trouble keeping track of how long it had actually been as things started to blur together like they had been before he met Tom. As Tom laid back to sleep Harry brushed the shadows aside and went to get some tea.

Tom would get nightmares sometimes. Harry didn’t know if he ever told anyone or just worked through it on his own but they would always startle him from sleep and Harry would hurry to watch him. Heart beating Harry would always sit straight up from whatever he was doing and watch as Tom sat up in bed and tried to get his breathing under control. 

Harry couldn’t help but watch him then. There was something about the way that his face gleamed with sweat and emotion that made Harry lose his senses for a second. Forget that the person he was watching would grow up to kill his parents and later everyone he cared about and just made him want to reach out and hold Tom. Comfort him and hold him until he could go back to sleep. Something about real emotion that wasn’t charming smiles made him want to see more of that Tom.

He saw how the war was picking up where Tom lived and he wondered if that’s what he dreamt about. If he saw people dying before his eyes and wondered how long until it would be him. Did he ever see the bodies of people he knew? Bloodied and broken by war? Did he ever just want it all to stop just so he could catch his breath for one second before he had to deal with it again? What was it like for Tom? 

Harry’s foot caught on the rug mid-thought and sprawled him onto the floor in front of the bookshelf. His eyes glazed over the titles. Was anyone ever truly unaffected by war? Could Tom have been driven by the desperate want to survive? Or was his killing just killing because he wanted to? 

A title stood out at him and he pulled it from the shelf to look at it closer. 

Studies of Culture and Politics by Jakney Markley

Tom would like this. 

Harry stood and brushed himself off with the book under his arm. He needed that cup of tea. 

~o~o~o~

Tom woke up, still breathing heavily from the night before, and went to take a shower. 

There was a book on his nightstand. Dusty and covered in a red leather cover. He wondered how long it was lying in someone’s basement before it found its way to him.

Studies of Culture and Politics By Jakney Markley

Tom smiled and tucked the book under his pillow. He would have to get around to reading it later. 

~o~o~o~

Harry couldn’t stop thinking about the girl in the bathroom. She was so young. It seemed like everyone is when they died. Quantifying their life with what they could have done or could have been. 

It’s always too soon. There were always more things they could have seen or done. He laid awake thinking about all the people who could have seen or done more who died on that battlefield. 

Sometimes he mourns for himself. He calls himself selfish every time. He’s alive and immortal while people the same age and younger are not. Their deaths decided for them by people too caught up in the fight to care about the consequences. He’s alive but is he living? Has he ever lived? Is it wrong to mourn the future you could have had when many others will never have the chance again? Sometimes he lies awake for hours staring at the ceiling and wondering what would have happened if he had died on the battlefield with everyone else. Or if he had died in that godforsaken cupboard from starvation or malnutrition or the beatings or any of the other assortment of injuries he sustained there.

And he has but not in the same way. He’s alive but who he was no longer exists and who he is and who he wants to be are someone else. Someone that he hasn’t yet figured out. 

Sometimes he mourns because he died in a way no one else did and he doesn’t know how to live again. 

Harry Potter died and left Death who wonders about the feelings of murderers and wants to hold them when they have nightmares. 

~o~o~o~  
Tom was planning on splitting his soul. One part in his diary for safekeeping. He was splitting himself in two. At the orphanage he always had himself. No one wanted to adopt the boy who watched from the shadows and who no one could explain how he hurt people. That was good. That was fine. He is his only and he has always been there for himself. A soul piece for the diary. A piece of himself he relies on to keep him alive and safe doing the same job just in a different place. Harry wouldn't approve he’s sure.

Harry talked about the value of souls sometimes. He told him which ones were pretty and scarred. His favorites were the ones with flaws. The ones he said have seen a lot and who were a new kind of beautiful.   
He wouldn’t approve of splitting his soul in two no more than he approved of the first year who ripped a butterfly in half to prove to his friends he could. 

Tom set the final runestone down and cut his hand and let the blood drip down. 

~o~o~o~

Harry felt it before he saw it. The harsh ripping of a soul not only from itself but from its body. He threw himself down to earth. Tom was lying there muscles clenching and blood pouring and pale as ash and Harry was next to him and holding him and smashing every single rock that he could find and the diary was there that damn diary that caused all that damage in his second year and all Harry could think of was how much it must have hurt to have a basilisk tooth go through your soul and then he was carefully holding Toms soul in his hands and trying to mend it back together but his hands were shaking and his vision was blurring but it was working and he could only watch with bated breath to see if his mending worked. 

~o~o~o~

Everything was white. Bringing white light covering every part of his body and penetrating with a billion knives and grabbing hold of his soul and pulling and pulling and with every rip that formed it only brought more agony. 

And then it stopped. 

The agony dissipated and the light became softer and kinder and slowly bandaging the rips back together. Relief flowed over him cooling the places the agony had touched and allowing him to breathe again. 

~o~o~o~

Harry let out the breath he was holding and just laughed when he saw Tom's chest move. Here he was, immortal and Death. Waiting for the man who killed his parents and brutally murdered most of the people in his year to breathe again. He held him in his arms and close to his chest where he could feel his heart beating and laughed. Tom was okay.

~o~o~o~

Tom woke up in silver pajamas in a bed bigger than any he had ever seen. There wasn’t blood and rocks and a diary around him. And there thankfully wasn’t the rest of his dorm trying to rub one out quietly before he would reasonably be up and would tell them to save it for their cousin. Just a room with a bed and a fancy lamp on the nightstand. Tom looked at the closet and wondered if the clothes could tell him anything about where he was and what he was doing here and where in Merlin's name was his diary.  
Someone knocked on the door. 

“Come in.”

He saw the black hair first. Messy and stark in contrast to the clean well kept room he was in. His clothes were still covered in shadows that looked far more comfortable and inviting than they were the first day he saw them. And then the tray. Juices and pastries and meat and every breakfast food he could possibly think of was on that tray. 

“I brought you some food,” Harry was awkward for once. His eyes were cast down and trying to look anywhere but Tom. Uncertain if he should even be here it seemed. “I wasn’t sure what you liked so I just brought what I remember Hogwarts having.” 

He walked forward and set it down on the nightstand next to the lam`p that was fancy but got uglier the longer he was awake. He had a sneaking suspicion that that was what most fancy things were like. 

“Thank you.” Tom said 

Harry nodded and started to leave. As he should, thought Tom. He didn’t deserve the opportunity for Tom's forgiveness. He was busy now without Harry. Filling his Saturday’s up with reading about other methods of immortality. He reached for the food and glared at the door Harry left through. He paused to wonder if any of Harry’s blood made its way into the food from the new wounds he had. He probably didn’t even clean them correctly. He was going to get sick and Tom was glad. He at least knows how to take care of his own wounds. Another reason why he doesn’t need Harry.

~o~o~o~

Harry wasn’t sure why he did it. He wasn’t even thinking when it happened. He just ran on pure instinct. He finished laughing and pulled himself up with Tom in his arms and took him to the in-between place where his home was. He wrapped Tom in spells so he would stay living while he was there and then laid him down in a guest bedroom. He waited. He sat there and watched Tom breathe in and out and in and out until the color returned fully to his cheeks and Harry was sure he was fine. He was restless the next few days waiting for Tom to wake up. He had wandered around the house just waiting to be absolutely positive that Tom was going to be okay. 

~o~o~o~

Tom fell asleep immediately after eating. Something about having your soul ripped and put together must be tiring. When he woke up he decided to find Harry.

Harry was sitting at the kitchen counter sipping tea and staring at a wall. 

“Where’s my diary?”

Harry pulled it out of his pocket and wordlessly handed it to him. 

“I fixed your soul. You don’t have a horcrux,” Harry said.

First, he decides to just fuck off to god knows where and leave him without a method of immortality and then he completely messes with the next method he finds? 

“You had no right.”

This was his soul and he could do what he wanted with it. With or without Harry's approval.

Harry looked up from his tea and at Tom. Green eyes fixed on him with a kind of fury underlined with fear. What could death possibly be afraid of?

“You were splitting your soul! I’m not just going to watch you rip it up like it’s worthless to you!”

“It’s my soul! And since you ever so kindly ditched me without a thought I feel like I’m perfectly within my rights to protect myself as I see fit!”

Harry stood on shaking feet to stare at Tom. He stood inches below him and still made Tom involuntarily shiver at the harsh gaze directed toward him. “You killed someone. You murdered people for what? For fun? For that damn ritual? Everything isn’t about you Tom. Maybe I didn’t want to let you fuck up your life more than it already has been!”

Harry was crying now. Tears rolling down his cheeks and wetting his shirt. 

Tom just stared at him. “Why do you even care? If I’m as horrible as you say it shouldn’t matter.”

Harry paused to take in deep breaths and move his gaze to somewhere other than Tom. 

“Maybe I don’t like seeing you miserable and I couldn’t stand watching you writhe in pain in the dirt without anyone to help you.”

“You left me. You left me to die.”

“You killed someone! I just saw her body on the floor and I couldn’t stand pretending you weren’t a monster anymore.”

He didn't expect that.   
There was something about that that bothered him, and suddenly, he was back to being the boy that no one wanted at the orphanage. 

“You don’t even know me. People die all the time and she shouldn’t have been where she didn’t belong.” 

Tom's voice was steely now. He didn't need Harry.

Harry’s voice was pained and quieter now. “It was the girl’s bathroom Tom. If anything you were out of place.”

“She was in the way.”

Harry sighed and sat back down with his tees. Looking into the cup like it would give him the ability to stop caring so much about everything. 

Tom watched for a second. The steam from the mug curling in the air and dissipating. A fraction of what it had been. Turning on his heel he left Harry sitting there and crying over a cup of tea.

~o~o~o~

Harry didn’t know what to say. Tom was angry at him. Angry like Voldemort had been and angry like Vernon and angry like Petunia and Dudley and Snape and Umbridge and the hundreds of death eaters that showed up specifically to hurt Harry. Maybe if he didn’t care so much he would stop making people angry. Maybe He could go back to spending time with Tom again. 

~o~o~o~

Harry cared about him. The feeling soared in his chest and enveloped him. He cared if he was miserable and hurt and if he was suffering. He pushed the feeling down. He didn’t need that. Harry also thought he was a monster. He was doing fine without Harry. His grades were phenomenal and if Harry hadn’t intervened he would be immortal right now. Harry cared but that doesn’t mean he had too.

Satisfied he picked up his book and continued reading. Harry was crying. He was probably still sitting at the kitchen counter letting tears drop into his tea. He was shaking when Tom left. He hadn’t heard anything in the hour he had been in here. Maybe Harry decided to just leave him here. Decided that living with a murderer was too much work. Maybe he wouldn’t see him again. That would be just fine with Tom. He couldn’t care less. In fact, he was going to go get some tea to see just how miserable he made Harry. 

When Tom walked into the kitchen he didn’t see Harry. That was disappointing. Where was the fun in making someone suffer if he wasn’t there to witness it? Tom frowned and started exploring the house. 

“Harry?”

There was no response

“Harry?”

Tom moved a bit faster now. Checking the rooms thoroughly and then rechecking anywhere that small boy could hide. He was checking the shower again when he heard footsteps behind him. It was odd hearing footsteps from Harry. It seemed like every time he was earth he was silent. Like he didn’t quite belong there or interact well. Tom turned to face him. He looked fine. He was here. He didn’t leave. His hair was just as messy as before and he stood a bit awkwardly like he was intruding in Tom’s house. It was so much better than the Harry Tom had seen before crying in the kitchen. This one was better somehow. He was Harry. 

~o~o~o~

Harry paused in the doorway of the bathroom uncertainly. Did Tom even want to see him? Tom turned around and he didn’t look like he was about to yell. He looked...relieved. Like he was worried about Harry. Harry couldn’t help but smile a little at the thought no matter how optimistic it may seem. Tom seemed happy and that was good enough for him. 

“Tom?” 

The smile dropped and Tom was back to frowning at him like he had earlier in the kitchen. 

“Where have you been?”

Harry flinched back and looked away.

“I was collecting souls. I didn’t think you would need me for a little while. I’m sorry.”

“I didn’t. I just. Wanted to make sure you weren’t ditching me again.”

“Oh. I wasn’t. I won’t,” Harry corrected himself.

They stood there. Tom staring at Harry. Harry staring at the wall. 

Harry met Tom's eyes for a brief moment before looking at another wall which seemed to be eternally fascinating at this point.

“I was wondering if you wanted to stay here for the summer. I know Wools isn’t the safest place to be right now and-“

“I would. Thank you.”

Harry nodded and moved out of the doorway to let Tom through. As Tom walked away Harry couldn’t help but look up and wonder if he could really forgive Tom. If he hasn't already.

~o~o~o~

Days turned to weeks and Tom was beginning to get used to Harry’s company again. His last year he had felt there was something missing and he was glad he found it again. 

There was something nice about spending time with Harry now that The Love Game was gone. Even if that meant Tom had to haggle Harry for other means of immortality now and again.

“No, you cannot have the elixir of life Tom.”

“That’s just because you don’t know where it is.”

“Of course I know where it is. I’m just not letting you have it. For all, I know you’ll give it to the basilisk.”

“Of course not. I’ll use it on myself first.”

“Tom. No.”

~o~o~o~

Harry sighed and looked at Tom. There was something about him that Harry had missed. And Harry has come to realize over the summer that it wasn't something specific about him, it was him. He just missed Tom. He watched as Tom tried to give yet another argument for his immortality. His lips moving and his hands following as he started flipping pages in the book he had on his lap for some sort of rebuttal. He was so very Tom, and Harry had missed him. The way he laughed and smiled and how his face settled when he was concentrating and Harry couldn’t help but lean forward.

~o~o~o~

Harry was kissing him. His lips were on his and then his body was on his and Tom was reaching to hold him and run a hand through the knots and tangles of his hair. He was kissing Harry back. More than that He was pushing Harry’s pants down and off and letting Harry fiddle with his belt.

~o~o~o~

This was Tom. These lips Harry was kissing were Toms. This shirt he was lifting over his head was Toms and the hands running over the scars on his back were Toms. He sunk into his touch and let him become enveloped in Tom.

~o~o~o~

There was something about Harry while he was asleep. The hair that fell in his face. The soft relaxed way he breathed. He looked content and unburdened by the world that Tom knew he tried to lift the weight of. His eyes fluttered open and he smiled at Tom. Still partly lost in his dream and now stepping partly into reality. A reality with Tom. 

Tom lifted a hand and ran his finger through his hair and smiled. 

“I won. I won The Love Game. I get immortality and you don’t get my soul,” he said.

Harry laughed softly then and leaned over and kissed Tom. Tom's hands moved to pull Harry closer in his embrace and to feel his body against his. Arms wrapped around him and lips pressed gently together and Tom was falling into it. And into Harry. 

Harry pulled away and smiled. The smile he had when Tom opened the tea cabinet and found a bunch of magnetic letter Ts. The smile he had when Tom found every picture in the book he was reading was replaced by the same picture of a snake in a party hat. Harry smiled and said, “What makes you think I don’t already have it?”  
Tom opened his mouth to say No, No way. No, I won. But all he could say was 

“I love you too.”

And couldn’t have been happier.

**Author's Note:**

> I love the challenge Death to a game trope.  
> I haven’t written in awhile and I wasn’t sure if I would ever finish this. I’m not sure I like parts of it but I probably wasn’t going to change it much anymore. But just because I might not like all of it doesn’t mean someone else can’t. So let me know what you think! Comments and constructive criticism are welcome!


End file.
